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All authors have their outtakes—scenes that didn’t make the final cut. Some are embarrassments that we regret ever writing and will probably never see the light of day. Others are wonderful favorites that didn’t advance the plot. Below is one of these scenes. I love it, but it simply slowed things down. I could imagine my readers yelling at me, “Get on with it!”, so I cut it. I couldn’t seem to delete it completely. Instead, it went into a file called Cut from Shakazhan. Now, I’m glad I kept it.

Before reading, in case you haven’t read Shakazhan yet, there are several sentient ships. I don’t mean just cognizant, I mean fully aware beings who cater to their crews by creating whatever they need. Want a bigger bed? The ship will provide it. Thirsty? What’s your favorite beverage? Need privacy? The ship will create a private room that only you can find. They are characters just as much as the humans and aliens are. Their names are Anvil, Hammer – her mate and Styx, their daughter.

The Kindred are another alien species who are highly advanced technologically and telepathically. This scene takes place on board one of the alien ships. Ariella and Caprilla are Fellician warriors commonly called The Cats.

For fun, they put together a demonstration from each class. The camaraderie was growing between the two disparate groups of people. Marines and Miners side by side, sparring happily and cheering each other’s success.

Matilda and Ariella took the stage. Ariella’s tawny coat shown like silk in the lights. She wore the traditional short sarong of the Kaboratta dancer.

Matilda wore the same type of sarong, and had a diminutive bikini top over her chest. Her long, dark hair was pulled tightly back in a cluster of three braids and covered with a matching bandana. Each of them wore six hoops per ear and Matilda had her bracelets in place. Their swords were in a block beside them.

They began with the Ritual of Weighing, where each of the competitors chose her weapon. Taking their stance across from one another, a sharp snap of a bongo signaled the start of the match. Matilda attacked quickly and low, going for her opponent’s knees. Ariella’s reach was longer, but Matilda’s comparatively diminutive stature next to hers, made getting under her guard easy.

Ariella swatted her away with her tail as if she were a gnat. Matilda flew across the stage, landing with a grunt. Shaking her head, she rose, taking her stance again.

The bongo signaled as before, Ariella attacked, moving in on Matilda’s exposed left side. Maneuvering rapidly, Matilda jumped for her block, grabbing her dagger as she sped by. She parried Arriella’s attack, barely avoiding a blow from her other side. Ariella had grabbed her dagger too. Matilda caught Ariella’s knife in her claws, which she had extended for that purpose.

A gasp from the crowd as Ariella extended hers, grappling with Matilda briefly before the woman moved out the of big cat’s range. The two of them slashed, kicked, and danced around the stage, hardly a sound but the bongo accompaniment and the clang of their weapons above their ragged breathing.

Ariella stooped to slash at Matilda’s legs. Matilda jumped lightly up and rolled over Ariella’s back, landing in a crouch on the other side. Back and forth they dodged and parried, swooping into an opening and back out again to avoid their opponent’s blows.

It looked as if Matilda were winning, then Ariella rushed in and got her pinned to one side of the stage, advancing, blade held ready before her, preparing for the killing blow. Matilda, calmly taking a deep breath, ran at Ariella, sprung forward and up, doing a handless cartwheel over her head, flipped as she was landing, spinning to face her opponent. Getting her feet under her, she launched herself at the large feline, knocking her down and sitting on her chest, blade ready at the throat, Matilda prepared for the kill.

Gasps of horror filled the room. Wil and Caprilla leapt onto the stage, calling for doctors. Wil lifted Matilda’s limp form off Ariella’s chest, clutching her to him, covered in blood.

Caprilla gently moved Ariella, taking her in his arms, wiping the blood from her fur, looking for the wound. There wasn’t any. There were no marks on either woman, just a lot of blood.

Unable to contain themselves longer, Ariella and Matilda levered themselves upward to horrendous applause. Even Wil and Caprilla joined the laughter and clapping.

“Ladies, that was the most amazing display of skill I’ve ever seen! I congratulate you!” Caprilla kissed each of them on the hand, helping Ariella to her feet. Wil scooped Matilda up, kissing her possessively. Caprilla held Ariella close to him, not letting go. Her protests were merely a ploy. She didn’t wish release or she would’ve taken his head off.

“Don’t ever scare me so again, Ariella. I feared you dead.”

She looked slyly at him. “Tell me, Caprilla, would it matter so very much?”

“It would wound me to my heart to lose you. I’m an old fool, perhaps. It took seeing you die before me to make me realize this.”

In a rare tender moment, Ariella kissed Caprilla and rubbed noses with him showing her affection.

“All is well then, Caprilla. For I’ll never do so again, I promise. But you must also promise me something.”

“What would that be, Ariella, anything within my power.” She whispered something in his ear, making him chuckle, then guffaw. “I believe that is something I can manage, Ariella. I swear.” He held up his hand as if taking an oath.

Later, Matilda took Ariella aside. “What did you ask Cap to do?”

“It is rather something I asked him not to do. I made him promise he will no longer bed Escascia. In return, I promised not to take Cavitus or Errollic to my bed. It is a bargain which pleases us both.” She smiled happily, though to many it would look more like a snarl.

Matilda grinned, but said nothing. It wasn’t necessary. She was pleased to know that her friends were happy, that was enough.

On a recent radio broadcast, I was chatting with my guests, Paula Rose Michelson and Stephen Brayton, about scenes they had to cut while editing. All authors have these scenes—those that were fun to write and read, but didn’t advance the plot. Those are sometimes hard to part with and an author has to put on their combat boots, march into the fray and hack and slash until they are eradicated.

Below is one such scene. While I really liked it, it didn’t really move the plot forward. In fact, there was an entire section that I removed or heavily rewrote because it held the story back. I hated to do it, but in rewrites, this scene, and the section following, were among the first to hit the editing room floor.

Before reading, in case you haven’t read Shakazhan yet, there are several sentient ships. I don’t mean just cognizant, I mean fully aware beings who cater to their crews by creating whatever they need. Want a bigger bed? The ship will provide it. Thirsty? What’s your favorite beverage? Need privacy? The ship will create a private room that only you can find. They are characters just as much as the humans and aliens are. Their names are Anvil, Hammer – her mate and Styx, their daughter.

The Kindred are another alien species who are highly advanced technologically and telepathically. This scene takes place on board one of the alien ships. Ariella is one of the Fellician warriors commonly called The Cats.

Matilda loved her unarmed combat, she also was fond of the bow, she wasn’t too good at moving as quietly as she would’ve liked, nor did she handle the Banderatta smoothly. The staff to her was unwieldy, but she was getting better at it. She found that she loved kick boxing and the blades seemed to sing to her.

“You have metal in your blood, that is why you hear the blades sing,” Ariella told her. “We will work together, you and I, until we can sing a duet.” She winked.

They trained tirelessly. When Matilda perfected the use of one blade, Ariella introduced her to a short fighting dagger which went in the left hand.

“Hold it carefully, away from your face.” She pointed to the hilt of the knife. “This is the fun part.” Pressing a gem on the hilt, she deployed a small blade in the handle of the knife which could be used even if the hands were raised above the head.

“Many times this has saved me in a battle. Some swords are also made this way, but it changes the balance and weight too much. I’ve one you may try, but I don’t like it. Each person is different.” She shrugged.

After a relatively short time, Matilda was also superior with the double blade technique. Ariella had one more surprise for her.

“Today, we incorporate your kick boxing to our fighting style. It is very similar to the ancient art of Kaboratta which is often a companion to the Banderatta. I’ll show you a basic exercise which you’ll practice until the weapons flow in your hands and your body moves like water. Some people study years to perfect this. We don’t have that kind of time. We begin!”

The movements were as complicated and intricate as a ballet. Ariella moved with the grace that only a giant feline can. The muscles did seem to flow like water. After her first demonstration, she taught Matilda the steps. It took a surprisingly short time for her to get the basic movements down, even the nuances of head and shoulder position came easily. Ariella purred with pleasure.

“It is as I suspected, Matilda, you’re born to this! Yes! That is just right. No, tilt your chin thus.” She moved Matilda’s chin slightly up and back. “That is in case I do this while you parry.” She slid in quickly, slashed empty handed, barely missing Matilda’s cheek with her extended claws.

“It is a shame you have no claws, Matilda. They come in very handy in battle.”

Matilda stopped moving, thinking for a minute. “You know what? I think with a little help, we can make some for me.” She grinned. “If anyone on this ship can make claws, it’s Weiss.” Lieutenant Weiss had been chosen by Hammer, Matilda called on him later in the day, telling him her idea and setting him the task of figuring out how to do it. She saw that glitter in his eyes that meant he had sunk his teeth into the problem. He would worry it like a dog with a bone until he found a solution.

Wil had become Caprilla’s star pupil. Where Matilda could make the blades sing and dance, Wil could make the staff wail and rock. From time to time, they’d work out together, her with her swords and he with the staff.

Caprilla and Ariella would stand to the side, grinning proudly, yelling commentary as the two sparred. “No, no, Wil! You leave your distaff side open! See, she got the blade in. If it had been sharp, you would be bleeding!”

Weiss had come through better than Matilda could’ve hoped. She had expected claws which would be non-retractable and had even practiced with this idea in mind. However, Weiss hadn’t been satisfied with that. He wanted something she could pull in when they were not needed.

“I used some of the Kindred’s technology. They make things from this liquid metal and can shape it any way they want. It kind of moves, see. It feels alive when you handle it. The Elder showed me this. Looks like bracelets, kind of heavy, but you get used to the weight. Works on the same principle as the ship. Tell it what you want.”

To demonstrate, he focused on the bracelet he wore. A triple bladed claw about eighteen inches long shot out. Each blade had a cruel, barbed hook on the end, meant to grab and rip. The other hand, he concentrated on it again and made a set of claws exactly like Ariella’s. A short pause, the blades on both hands retracted.

“You’ll be faster at it, you’re telepathic, I’m not. For me it is a conscious effort, for you, a thought will do. Try them.” He fastened the bracelets on her wrists.

They were heavy, throbbing, warm to the touch. They massaged her wrists, giving them added strength.

“They’re magnificent!” She pointed her wrist away from him, towards the emptiness of the cargo hold. A thought later, a perfect duplicate of talons curled from her wrist, looping up and out for a full seventeen inches of solid bone. They were too heavy, but she got the idea of the control measures needed.

“I think I could really learn to like these,” Matilda flashed her crooked grin.

“If only you had a tail, you would be perfect,” Ariella purred, trilling her ‘r’

One of author Dellani Oakes’ favorite questions to ask a radio guest is When did you know you had been bitten by the writing bug.

I was first stung during my high school English classes. I have always loved the creative writing sections of my classes. I was kind of a loner as a kid and had a lot of time on my hands to create. I basically wrote to kill time and boredom.

Again when I was older I was on medical leave from work. I was faced with hours of watching the afternoon soaps and staring at the four walls. I sat down at my computer and created what came to be DEAD ON ARRIVAL.

What did I do to feed the muse during my writing? Music. I discovered that my muse needed music to operate at full tilt. The genre of choice was and still is classic 70′s rock. Sometimes I go for one hit wonders of the 80′s depending on the story

If I was never bitten by another bug I am glad it was the writing bug. I am currently working on the forth book in my series and two other independent stories. So Mr. writing bug, BRING IT ON, BITE ME!

Here’s another one from Fun in Writing class. The topic was Technology Issues.

My mother will be 95 in September. I look back at the decades of her life and marvel at the technological advances she’s witnessed. Even in my own life, we’ve gone from heavy lacquer phones on party lines, to cellphones that fit in your pocket. Now, you don’t have to be home to get a call, people can reach you where ever you are.

When I was a kid, our facts came from dictionaries and encyclopedias. A computer was the size of a room and only places like NASA had them. The web was something a spider built and they were the only ones who surfed them. Now, all that can be accessed with cellphones. Technology is grand!

Technology is also a pain in the butt. If something goes wrong with a phone or computer, we’re in trouble. Rarely is it ever a do it yourself project. Time to call the technician, then watch the zeroes add to the end of the bill.

I recently had to upgrade from Windows XP to Windows 7. (35 years ago, if I’d said I was getting new Windows, I’d have meant panes of glass – but now, of course, I mean my computer program.) Microsoft said they are no longer supporting Windows XP, so the buggers forced my hand. I was fine for about a week, then I started having on-line issues. I had no choice – time to call the tech.

I finally got my computer in for its upgrade and got it back last Tuesday. I didn’t have time to sit down and learn Windows 7, but I was familiar enough with it to do a few necessary chores. One thing I did was load up IBM Lotus Symphony, my favorite word processing program. I kept getting interrupted, so I ended up, somehow, loading it on my computer in Italian!

Fortunately, the commands are in the same configuration as the English version, so I can find my way around . My husband keeps telling me I should take it off my computer and reload in English, but I haven’t done it yet. Everything I’ve written comes up in English, so it really doesn’t matter. I’ve figured out that Nuovo is new. Salve is save and Stampe means print. Only, the dumb thing won’t print. Not because it’s in Italian, because it keeps sending me to some other program to save or print it. I’m really not sure what’s going on—which means I need to call the tech again. Which means a lengthy phone call, which means it’s probably not going to happen until I complain enough that my husband does it.

From time to time, I look back at simpler times when phones didn’t fit in the pocket, and if someone wanted to talk to you by phone, they called back until they reached you. Letters were written on pieces of paper and sent through the mail. People used typewriters to write books and erasers to correct their mistakes.

If we got bored, we read books or comics, played board games or went outside and used our imaginations to play Super Heroes. People met up with neighbors for coffee or gathered at a friend’s house to watch TV. We shared coffee and stories about our children. We talked to one another about things that mattered to us. Many a family problem was solved in the neighbor’s kitchen with all the wives giving advice.

We may talk, but often it’s about the latest TV program, not real life. We complain about our children, but don’t look for ways to help them—or get them in line. Families don’t spend the same kind of quality time together, often not even eating dinner at the same time.

A lot of those old fashioned notions are gone. I know, because I did a quick web search on technology’s impact on the modern family. It’s here on my phone. Wherever I am, I can sit down and read all about it.

As writers we have many tasks to do and hats to wear. I feel as though I have dropped a ball in my constant juggling act to keep on top of blogging and shameless self-promotion.

As everyone knows by now I have been doing a radio show on Blogtalk radio every month.

WRITERS ROUND TABLE airs the second Tuesday of every month. My repertoire is growing and so thus does my list of responsibilities.

Do you as writers often drop the ball purposely just to give yourselves a mental break? So when something’s gotta give, what do you give up for the sake of your sanity?

Blogging was the thing that drew the short straw.

I love to blog. I knew I was missing something in my routine but I wasn’t sure quite what until a friend mentioned she was behind on her blogging yet being the only one doing it. Then it hit me! The blogs –I don’t think I have graced karenwritesmurder.com with anything noteworthy in a couple of months nor has my pen hit CEREAL AUTHORS or WRITEMINDS BLOG in a dogs age.

I have also dropped the ball on promoting others on social media.

So here it is: My apology to those I promised to promote and two sites I love to contribute. This is not a resolution to do better although I will endeavor to keep up with my fellow writers and promoters.

Also being on the radio means we schedule our shows and line up guests on our own—It’s definitely a DIY kind of thing and it’s an experience I love but I hate the techie glitches. Last month the station which shall remain nameless decided to have a menopausal hissy fit. My guest was a great sport and agreed that after fifteen minutes of crap we would call time of death and reschedule.

When I decided to be a writer I never realized it would involve blogging, promoting and chatting on internet radio but I don’t think I could ever give it up.